My second book, due out in early 2018, is a radical deconstruction of the Brit Abroad genre (see, for example, A Year In Provence, Driving Over Lemons) . Personal travelogue, history and comic treatise on the nature of mortality rolled into one, it includes the usual digressions on cinema (Orson Welles, Luis Bunuel, Larissa Shepitko etc) peregrination (Islamic and Christian) the Welsh in Patagonia, wild swimming in Scotland, celebrity speed freaks, torture and terrorism.
Yes, it’s “about” me (again) my family and our idyllic year in a Spanish village (zzzz) but, more to the point it’s about the under-explored and relatively unknown province of Caceres, which lies in Extremadura, in south-west Spain. Its people, its history, its culture, its traditions and peculiarities. Above all, its peculiarities. But don’t let ME try to convince you. Here’s what the critics are saying:
“Undoubtedly one of the books about Spain I have read” – Orson Welles
“Smells like Andalusian dog” – The Salvador Daily News
“Si se atrevia de nuevo a volver a localidad le colgaria por los huevos de los faroles del paseo” – Ortega y Gasket